Fic, Kis-My-Ft2, Find the Words

Title: Find the Words [Miyata/Tamamori]Rating/Warnings: NC-17Summary: Miyata never tells Tamamori no, even when Tamamori can't find the words for any of the important things himself. AN: Written for miquilis for the quick February pwp exchange. She wanted MiyaTama that was kind of ouchy but turned out okay in the end, and so I came up with this. It was kind of a struggle! But I think it turned out well when I finally sat down and steeled myself to write all the ouchy parts.

“Wh-what?” Miyata asks, eyes wide, hands fumbling his sneaker laces into a knot. “What did you just say?”

“Kiss me,” Tamamori repeats. His orange-bleached bangs hang in his face, and Tamamori is sure they’re clashing with his pink cheeks. “Everybody else has kissed somebody already, and I hate being the last one! Even those brats have!”

“I’m pretty sure Ken-chan and Nika-chan have only kissed each other,” Miyata says, looking back down at his sneakers with a frown as he tries to undo the mess he’s made of his laces.

“Whatever, that’s still somebody!” Tamamori insists. He reaches down to squish Miyata’s cheeks with the palms of his hands and forces him to look back up.

“You aren’t last,” Miyata says. “I haven’t kissed anyone.”

“See? Then let’s go already, geez!” Miyata stares at him evenly until Tamamori is the one who has to look away. “Just do it and get it over with.”

Tamamori has gotten used to Miyata doing whatever he says, which is the reason he’s standing here right now. When Miyata doesn’t move right away to obey, Tamamori worries that he’s gone too far this time, even for Miyata, and just humiliated himself for nothing. But then Miyata stands up and steps a little closer, and Tamamori’s world settles back properly on its axis.

Tamamori’s mouth pinches a little; he hadn’t thought about it like that. But oh well, it seems too late to take it back now, and he’s sick of waiting. “Yeah, whatever.” He lifts his eyes back to Miyata’s face to give him a narrow look. “I’ll be yours too, don’t pretend that isn’t exactly what you want.”

Miyata just smiles a little, small and nervous, and then leans in and presses their mouths together.

It’s awkward and their noses bump, and both of their eyes are open. Tamamori reaches up after a second to palm Miyata’s face again, tilting his mouth into a more comfortable angle, and then Miyata’s eyes slide shut. It’s weird to look when he’s the only one doing it, so Tamamori closes his eyes too, even though that makes the feeling of Miyata’s warm, rough lips against his more intense.

Tamamori blinks his eyes open again when Miyata pulls away.

“Well?” Miyata asks after an awkward silence.

Tamamori considers. It wasn’t so bad, maybe even a little nice, but what he says is, “I’m glad that’s over with. Now take me out for food already, I’m starving.”

Tamamori has girlfriends on and off sometimes, but years later it’s Miyata he goes to for drama kissing practice.

*****

“You aren’t asleep, right?” Tamamori asks across the gap between their beds. He can’t sleep, the hotel sheets’ unfamiliar smell and feel rubbing his skin all wrong. On Tamamori’s other side, Kitayama is breathing slow and deep, easy to sleep through but impossible to ignore when Tamamori can’t sleep himself.

“No,” Miyata answers, voice slurred with exhaustion.

“Good, because you aren’t allowed to until I do.”

“Any chance that’ll be soon?” Miyata’s voice is plaintive, as close to scolding as he ever gets with Tamamori.

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.” Fed up, Tamamori throws back his blankets and crawls out of bed. He grunts when he trips over his own bag and bangs his knee on the edge of Miyata’s bed. “Move over.”

Miyata doesn’t argue as Tamamori slides between his blankets, in close enough to poach Miyata’s heat shamelessly. It’s not even unusual; when it’s cold at night with the heat off, Tamamori does the same thing when they sleep over at each other’s houses.

It’s more comfortable, but Tamamori is still shifting around after a few minutes, unable to relax. The worst part is, there’s one thing that he knows will relax him, but even Tamamori isn’t KY enough to think he can just start doing that in Miyata’s bed.

“So like I said, do it too.” Tamamori shifts until he’s as comfortable as he can be on his back, one hand already slipping down his track pants. The other is patting around for Miyata’s wrist, and Miyata jumps a little under the touch when Tamamori makes contact. Tamamori shoves Miyata’s hand towards his own pants. “Come on already.”

Miyata struggles a second, and then just gives in with a muttered “Fine, fine.” Satisfied with his victory, Tamamori takes his hand back to push his shirt up and starts to stroke himself seriously. He closes his eyes as he gets into it, but he can feel the shift of Miyata beside him, feel when Miyata’s rhythm matches up with his. Tamamori thinks about complaining about how weird that is, but it seems like too much effort.

Usually Tamamori doesn’t think about much when he gets himself off, the occasional model or actress, but with Miyata right beside him he can’t help think about that. He wonders what Miyata thinks about, girls or boys or gross anime things, wonders if Miyata squeezes himself the same way Tamamori does and what he does with his other hand, if he thumbs his tip like Tamamori does. Tamamori’s orgasm rushes over him suddenly, taking him by surprise so that he forgets to be entirely quiet, leaving him shivering with little aftershocks.

“Oh,” Miyata says, like he’s surprised too, and Tamamori can tell he’s coming too from how he goes tense and then relaxes. Tamamori fumbles for some tissues and drops a couple on Miyata’s face.

They clean up in silence, and Tamamori heaves a satisfied sigh as he sprawls out on his back, Miyata’s warmth feeling so good against his skin. Miyata rolls onto his side towards Tamamori but doesn’t say anything. Tamamori can tell he isn’t asleep, though.

“No,” Miyata chuckles. Tamamori waits for Miyata to ask what he thinks about, but the silence stretches out another few seconds before Miyata speaks again. “Tama?”

“Mm?” Tamamori feels sleepy finally, eyes closing on their own.

“Never mind, it’s nothing. Goodnight.”

Tamamori mumbles a goodnight of his own and drifts off easily.

The next time he tries to jerk off by himself, Tamamori is annoyed when he discovers that his mind keeps drifting back to Miyata warm next to him, falling into rhythm with him, making soft, choked noises. The most irritating thing is that he can’t even imagine it properly because under the blankets in the dark he hadn’t seen anything really.

The next time they share a hotel room, Tamamori is in Miyata’s bed ten seconds after Kitayama starts snoring. This time he doesn’t bother keeping his hands to himself.

*****

“Shut the fuck up, okay?” Nikaido demands, face bright red because he’d accidentally let it slip that Senga is on top more often than not these days, and now half the room is cackling at his expense. “Whatever, if you freaks ever got laid right you’d know it felt amazing.”

“Nika-chan~,” Senga purrs, pleased at the backhanded compliment. He wraps his arms around Nikaido in a showy hug and squeezes him until Nikaido grumbles at him to save it for later, geez.

Tamamori sidles up to Nikaido afterwards, and Nikaido side-eyes him warily, clearly ready to scrap if Tamamori has only come over here for more harassment. Tamamori feels just as embarrassed as Nikaido looks, but it’s not like there’s a ton of people he can go to for these sorts of answers.

“It feels good? Really?” Tamamori asks, genuinely curious. Obviously he’s seen manga and that sort of stuff on the internet, but he always thought it looked abrupt and unpleasant for the person on the bottom.

“Yeah,” Nikaido answers after a second. He looks back down at his phone in his hands, as if he can only talk about it when they aren’t looking at each other. “If the other person does it right, it’s...look, if it sucked, I wouldn’t let him do it, right?”

Tamamori thinks to himself that actually Nikaido would let Senga do a lot of things even if they were entirely unpleasant, but he has the sense to keep that opinion to himself.

He does like girls, enough, but they’re so much work and it’s not like he has a lot of time or opportunity for them with their job now that they’re busy nearly all year. It’s been a while since Tamamori has had a regular girlfriend, and the last one he’d had ended badly enough that he’s not in a hurry to try again.

Miyata, on the other hand, is entirely convenient and still does whatever Tamamori says. So if Tamamori wants to be touched or held during one of their million and a half sleepovers, Miyata never tells him no. Even when they don’t do that sort of thing they haven’t bothered with futons at each other’s houses for years, so nobody thinks anything of it so far as Tamamori knows.

Tamamori’s mother does make the occasional comment to Miyata about Tamamori being a high-maintenance girlfriend, but she spends her afternoons reading that sort of manga or gossiping about them with Fujigaya’s mother, so Tamamori doesn’t expect any better from her.

“So hey,” Tamamori says during their next sleepover, rolling onto his side to watch Miyata’s face. “That thing that Nika was talking about. Can we try that?”

Miyata looks up from the Shounen Jump he’s reading, eyebrow raised. “Sending rabbits to the moon to colonize it?”

“No,” Tamamori snaps, scornful, but then he can’t get the words out. “The...you know, earlier, the other thing about...him.”

“Oh.” Miyata sets the magazine aside and gives Tamamori his full attention. “You want to do that? With me?”

There’s nobody else Tamamori would trust as much to try or would worry less about being a freak about it if it sucks, or that Tamamori thinks would take care of him so well, but what Tamamori ends up saying is, “You’re right here. And it’s not like a girlfriend could do it to me.”

Miyata winces, Tamamori assumes from the mental image, then just stares thoughtfully at Tamamori a little longer. Tamamori waits as patiently as he can, scrunching Miyata’s blankets between his fingers.

“I’ve never done that with anybody though,” Miyata finally says. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“You can figure it out,” Tamamori assures carelessly, already leaning back to shove his sweatpants off. He’s entirely relaxed about it now that Miyata’s basically said yes. Miyata will make him feel good, definitely. Miyata opens his mouth but Tamamori fists a hand in his T-shirt and pulls him down for a kiss, done with talking.

Tamamori tugs Miyata over top of him while they kiss, hums in satisfaction when Miyata’s weight presses him into the mattress, familiar and warm. Miyata relaxes into after a minute, enough that Tamamori lets go of his shirt and starts running hands over Miyata’s arms and back. Miyata’s arms are particularly nice lately, he must be doing muscle training with Nikaido again, and Tamamori traces all their curves until Miyata is whining softly into Tamamori’s mouth.

When he’s sure Miyata won’t try to make a run for it, Tamamori spreads his legs, letting Miyata’s weight settle between them. It sends a surprising bolt of want through Tamamori’s stomach, and both of them moan quietly. Miyata lifts his head, breaking the kiss, to look down at Tamamori’s face. His expression is full of want, focused only on Tamamori, and Tamamori likes that more than a little.

“Please,” Tamamori asks, rolling his hips up against Miyata’s. “I want you to.”

“All right, all right,” Miyata says breathlessly. He peels himself away from Tamamori with reluctance, and reaches for his bedside drawer with a familiarity that makes Tamamori raise an eyebrow.

“I thought you said you hadn’t done this before?” Tamamori demands when the necessary items are in immediately reach.

“Jealous?” Miyata asks, looking perfectly pleased about that, and Tamamori scoffs. Miyata uncaps the lube and warms some up on his fingers. “That’s not the only thing you can use lube for, you know. Tell me if I hurt you.”

Tamamori certainly plans to, his reputation as a crybaby well-deserved, but he never gets the chance. Miyata goes so slow that Tamamori is begging him to speed up, not that Miyata listens. Miyata’s fingers are strong and warm and feel so good that Tamamori squirms not just from the pleasure of it, but also from the revelation that he might be the most willing bottom to ever walk the earth.

Aside from Nikaido, apparently.

“Are you takes notes for your novel down there or something?” Tamamori demands crankily when he feels like he’s about to go out of his skin with need. “I’m fine, okay? Do you want to fuck me or not?”

Miyata pulls his hand free but doesn’t do much else, making Tamamori whine. His expression is serious when he looks down to meet Tamamori’s eyes. “Are you really sure?”

“I was sure when I asked you the first time!” Tamamori insists, reaching for the condom himself since Miyata seems determined to be useless. He rips it open after only a second of fumbling and leans up to roll it onto Miyata. “I mean, really, who else?”

A look comes over Miyata’s face that Tamamori can’t identify, but before he can put any effort into it, Miyata is pulling Tamamori up with his strong hands and rolling him over, onto his hands and knees. “It’ll be easier like this.”

He starts pushing in before Tamamori can argue, and then Tamamori doesn’t have the breath for any words anyway. There is a bit of sting and stretch at first, despite Miyata being so careful, but it’s gone in a minute, replaced by heat and want.

“More,” Tamamori demands when Miyata holds still too long, leaning down onto his elbows to change the angle of Miyata pushing into him. He arches his back like a cat, dragging a low noise out of Miyata, and then Miyata’s thighs are pressed flush against his and he’s as deep as he’s going to get. “Mmm, now move.”

“Tama-chan,” Miyata murmurs, voice shaky. He drapes himself over Tamamori’s back and that feels even better, the heat of Miyata’s skin sinking into Tamamori’s, one arm curling around Tamamori’s chest and the other holding Tamamori’s hip steady as Miyata pulls out and pushes back in.

He speeds up soon enough, Tamamori pushing back against him and spreading his knees further apart to take Miyata in deeper. Tamamori had no idea it would feel anything like this, that it would set his skin on fire and drive all the air from his lungs. He can’t even get enough breath to order Miyata to touch him, or to do anything besides moan.

Miyata does it anyway, dropping his hand from Tamamori’s hip to wrap tight around his cock. He fucks Tamamori forward into his fist, surrounding him completely, and Tamamori has no hope of lasting after only a few minutes. He doesn’t even manage to choke out a warning as he squeezes tight around Miyata, Miyata’s echoing groan buzzing against his spine, and then Tamamori pulses himself out over Miyata’s hand for what seems like forever. His arms and legs are shaking, threatening to buckle any second, but fortunately Miyata clutches him tightly and comes as well only a few thrusts afterwards.

They collapse on their side, both of them gasping for air like they’ve just run the length of Dome, and Tamamori feels like he might never move again. Miyata’s arms tighten around Tamamori’s waist, his breath still quick and irregular against Tamamori’s shoulder, and Tamamori can’t even be bothered to call him gross.

Eventually Tamamori starts to shiver, and Miyata sits up to clean both of them up as best he can before tucking them under the blanket. He only hesitates a moment before pulling Tamamori close again, much closer than they usually sleep. Tamamori has had enough girls do that to know they’re straying into not casual fuck territory, but given what they just did, Tamamori is willing to cut Miyata some slack until it’s daylight.

Somehow before Tamamori knows how it happened, Miyata has nearly all of Tamamori’s firsts. It worries Tamamori a little that it turned out like that, the only otaku out of all the hot idols around and that’s the moron that Tamamori picks, but then he shrugs it off. It isn’t like Miyata is going anywhere, after all. Better him than some girl whose name he can barely remember anymore, like the first girl who’d let Tamamori take her bra off.

The others must know about what goes on between the two of them, they’re all close enough and Tamamori is a particularly bad secret-keeper, but nobody says anything even when it goes on for a while. It keeps happening long enough, in fact, that the next time Tamamori mentions a girlfriend casually, Senga blinks at him in confusion.

“But...” Senga frowns. “I thought you and Miyacchi were...”

“What?” Tamamori asks, not seeing at all what taking his girlfriend shopping over the weekend has to do with letting Miyata fuck him sometimes.

“Getting serious,” Senga finishes, and now Tamamori frowns. “I mean, if both of you are fine with it, I guess that’s okay.” Senga’s smile is a bit forced, but Tamamori knows he means well and wasn’t trying to pry.

“We aren’t like that really,” Tamamori tries to explain, not liking how thin an excuse it sounds even to his own ears. Senga says it’s not his business anyway, and Tamamori grumbles internally that Senga needs to quit being so adult, what the hell.

Senga does squeeze Tamamori around the waist in a quick hug before he goes out to practice, though. “Just...be happy, okay?”

The girl lasts ten seconds anyway, starting to get on Tamamori’s nerves much earlier than they usually do, but that doesn’t make it feel good to get dumped.

“And then she called me a weirdo!” Tamamori complains, voice rising in pitch throughout his dramatic retelling. “She had fake eyelashes bigger than Kitamitsu’s and a purse bigger than Yokoo’s, and I’m the weirdo?” He kicks at Miyata’s foot when he doesn’t get any response. “Oi, are you listening to me?”

“Of course I am,” Miyata says, but he doesn’t pull his eyes away from his phone. Even when he snaps it shut and tucks it in his pocket, he doesn’t really meet Tamamori’s eyes properly. “I’m going to go out and stretch early with Ken-chan, I feel really stiff this morning. See you in a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tamamori grumbles, out of temper at the lack of response to his whole melodramatic story. He looks around for a new audience, but the only people left in the room with him are Fujigaya, who is busy with the mirror, and Kitayama, who is stretched out on the couch. He isn’t asleep yet, Tamamori can tell by his breathing, so Tamamori decides to chance it.

“Can you even believe that shit?” Tamamori demands.

Kitayama cracks one eye open. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that crack about the eyelashes.”

“She was a bigger tease than Taipi, too,” Tamamori launches right back into his story. “She was all up on me in the restaurant, touching my leg and rubbing against my shoulder, but then as soon we got to the car...”

“Stop it,” Kitayama orders. “Nobody wants to hear that, ugh.”

“That’s what Miyacchi said too.” Tamamori purses his lips, glancing in the direction of the door that Miyata had used to escape. “What’s with him lately, anyway? Normally I could read him the dictionary and he’d beg for more, but I haven’t been able to finish a whole story in front of him for like a week. What kind of best friend is he?”

“Eh?” Tamamori frowns. It’s not like he goes around kicking puppies or something.

“Of course he doesn’t want to hear about you and some sleazy girl. God, it’s like you’ve got no sense at all. You’ve stolen every one of Miyacchi’s firsts, and none of it means anything to you, does it?” Kitayama isn’t really asking, though; his voice says he already knows the answer.

“I didn’t steal them,” Tamamori protests. Kitayama eyes him evenly a moment longer, and then rolls over on the couch in clear dismissal.

That silent look makes Tamamori feel worse than any words ever could. He tries to occupy himself with his phone, but he mostly ends up just scowling at it. Even Fujigaya notices his sulk when he glances away from the mirror to rummage in his bag.

“What’s with that face?” Fujigaya asks, turning right back to the mirror without waiting for an answer.

“Kitamitsu just said I’m terrible,” Tamamori reports, pulling another face at his phone. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Mm,” Fujigaya says. “Well, you are.” And if Kitayama saying that had made Tamamori uncomfortable, Fujigaya saying it makes Tamamori’s discomfort boil over into anger.

“I don’t want to hear it from you!” Tamamori snaps, tossing his phone into his bag with some force. “You fool around more than anybody!”

“Not with anybody who’s in love with me, though.” Fujigaya glances past his own reflection in the mirror to catch eyes with Tamamori. “You don’t think that’s cruel?”

“He could say no,” Tamamori mutters, crossing his arms tightly against his chest like he can make Fujigaya’s words bounce off.

“You know he won’t,” Fujigaya counters. “You wouldn’t take no for an answer if he did.”

“Just shut up, what do you know,” Tamamori snaps, shouldering past Fujigaya to escape the room.

He slinks out of the dressing room and down the hall to where Miyata, Senga, Nikaido, and Yokoo are practicing already. Miyata gives Tamamori a little wave when they catch eyes, before he goes on with practicing, but it makes Tamamori somehow feel even worse. Kitayama and Fujigaya’s words roll around in Tamamori’s stomach as he watches the four of them dance, until the whole thing is one big knot. He can hardly concentrate on what they’re doing, barely even listening when he gets yelled at.

“What’s wrong?” Miyata asks when he can steal a moment alone with Tamamori, hours later. “Are you really that upset about--”

“Did I steal all your firsts?” Tamamori interrupts. Miyata’s mouth works soundlessly for a second and Tamamori barrels on. “Kitamitsu said I stole all your firsts and I’m a terrible person, and Taipi said I’m cruel for fooling around with you when you love me. It’s not like I can stop you doing that!”

“You didn’t steal them,” Miyata says quietly, giving Tamamori a real smile for the first time all day, even if it’s a small one. “I gave them to you. I’m glad you have them.”

That doesn’t make Tamamori feel better at all, though. If anything it makes him feel worse, Miyata’s patience endless no matter how much Tamamori orders him around. He’s been thinking about it all afternoon, just going around and around in little circles mentally until it made him sick.

“Why do you let me treat you like this?” Tamamori demands, frustrated because he doesn’t get it at all.

“You know why,” Miyata says, meeting Tamamori’s gaze evenly. He’s so calm about it, it just makes Tamamori want to get louder, to force Miyata to be just as agitated as he is.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Tamamori asks, forcing his hands back down to his sides when they want to grab Miyata’s shirt and just shake him until he’s sensible. “There isn’t anybody else who would put up with it!”

“Then they don’t love you enough,” is Miyata’s matter-of-fact answer to that, and for a moment, Tamamori can’t think of anything to say back, so they just stare at each other.

“It isn’t like anybody could compete with you,” Tamamori says in the end, then clicks his tongue when it only makes Miyata smile wider. “In terms of being gross, I mean. Ugh, just shut up and tell me how to fix it.”

Tamamori looks at Miyata, whose eyes are a little sad and a little hopeful but focused just on Tamamori, and he knows what he should say, whether it’s the truth or not. He opens his mouth, but the words stick in his throat until he shakes his head. If he makes a promise to Miyata that he can’t keep, Tamamori will never be able to forgive himself.

“I can’t,” he says. Miyata nods, unsurprised, like he already knows. “It’s okay,” Miyata assures. “The way we are is fine.”

Tamamori surprises both of them when he grabs Miyata in a hug tight enough to squeeze the breath out of him. “I want you to be happy too,” he hisses.

It’s awkward for a day or two, but it blows over easily enough. Miyata never refuses Tamamori when Tamamori is craving closeness or attention, and he seems to have been honest about not needing words or promises. It’s more than Tamamori deserves, he knows, but he’s grateful. He tries to make up for it in physical affection when it’s just the two of them, and Miyata seems more than okay with that too.

Before he knows it, weeks and weeks have gone by. Practice ends early enough for the day that Tamamori and Miyata make it to Tamamori’s house in time for a late dinner, and Tamamori-san is only too happy to cook a second time for her favorite pair of idols. She feeds Miyata until he protests that he won’t fit into his shiny suit the next day, giving Tamamori a good-natured ribbing the whole time about being so high maintenance.

“But I like him that way,” Miyata protests with a wide grin, and Tamamori clicks his tongue in annoyance. “He’s cutest when he’s being totally unreasonable, don’t you think?”

“Boy, does that sound familiar,” Tamamori’s father comments as he wanders by the kitchen, and this time it’s Tamamori-san who clicks her tongue in annoyance. His quota of family time more than filled, Tamamori announces they’re going to his room and drags Miyata away by the wrist before his mother can start on a fruit course.

It’s been a long day of practice, so even though it’s still too early to go to bed, they flop onto Tamamori’s bed next to each other and turn on the television. Tamamori pulls Miyata closer until he’s pressed against Tamamori’s side, warming him up from shoulder to knee. Miyata settles in willingly enough, throwing an arm over Tamamori’s waist and settling his cheek against Tamamori’s shoulder.

There’s a music show on when Tamamori flips the channel, and Tamamori perks up. “Hey, that’s her!”

“Your drama co-star?” Miyata asks, shifting to see better. Tamamori’s next drama project hasn’t been formally announced yet, but Kis-My-Ft2 will do the opening theme and his romantic co-lead will be singing the ending theme. Tamamori’s been sworn to secrecy, so of course Miyata knows all the details. They watch her chat happily with the host for a minute about her new album. “Mm, she seems nice.” Miyata’s fingers skim Tamamori’s ribs through his T-shirt, tickling lightly. “Good luck, Romeo.”

Miyata rolls over more onto his stomach, half on top of Tamamori, to eye him with a raised eyebrow. “Is that so? Because she looks kind of exactly like your last three girlfriends, more or less. Strong, short hair, leather boots...”

“I’m just not interested, okay?” Tamamori narrows his eyes at Miyata. “And my last girlfriend was months ago, you know.”

“I do know,” Miyata replies, smirk fading into a thoughtful look. “Even for you, it’s quite a gap. Is if okay to ask if there’s a reason for that?”

“Just turned out like this,” Tamamori says, but it sounds unconvincing even to him. The truth is that there’s been a couple opportunities, but each time it happens, Tamamori finds himself unable to expend even the most minimal effort. He’s busy enough, is what he’s been telling himself, and it’s not like he needs to go borrowing trouble.

Besides, girls are always the wrong height and not warm enough and smell wrong and Tamamori has to keep remembering he can’t call them names.

“I’m the only one you’ve been with?” Miyata asks, still looking like he isn’t sure if they really can talk about this. “Since we talked about it?” Tamamori nods. “Is that on purpose? Or just...”

“I don’t know.” Tamamori kisses Miyata rather than think about it, because thinking is hard and Miyata is easy for him as usual. He lifts a hand to drag through Miyata’s hair and Miyata melts against him, easier than anything. Miyata kisses Tamamori slow and firm and with his full attention, and Tamamori stops thinking about anything at all.

He tugs Miyata over until Miyata is covering him completely, and Tamamori hums happily at the warm weight pressing him into the mattress. He twines arms around Miyata’s neck, dragging fingers through Miyata’s hair and down his back until Miyata is making soft noises into his mouth with every breath.

“I want you,” Tamamori murmurs, and Miyata sighs a yes before Tamamori’s done saying the words. Miyata sits up to strip their clothes off, and Tamamori growls at the loss of his heat while making no move at all to help.

“Unreasonable,” Miyata accuses, affectionate, shoving Tamamori’s sweatpants out of the way. He strips his own off while he’s at it, tossing them aside carelessly. “So cute.”

“Stay like this,” Miyata asks, and Tamamori raises an eyebrow because he always rolls over. This time it’s Miyata who squirms a little as he explains, “I want to see you.”

It’s different to be able to watch as Miyata stretches him open, but it’s hot too, Miyata’s long fingers disappearing inside of him. Tamamori finds himself pushing down almost right away, wanting more, shifting his hips until Miyata figures out where to touch from this side. “Ohh, right there.”

“Mm,” Miyata agrees, eyes getter darker as he watches the way Tamamori arches for him. He curls his fingers and Tamamori shudders head-to-toe, barely muffling his noise at the last second. “Don’t hold back, I want to hear you. Your parents are downstairs anyway.”

“Don’t talk about them,” Tamamori grumbles, and then Miyata does it again while he’s in the middle of talking, so that Tamamori can’t stop the low moan this time. Tamamori’s cheeks go pink, hoping his parents are watching TV or something. “Fuck, don’t do that!”

“Can’t help myself,” Miyata says, not at all repentant. “Your voice is so hot like that, of course I want to hear it. I can’t wait to feel you, are you ready?”

“Hurry up,” Tamamori orders, legs spreading even wider in anticipation. He whines when Miyata pulls his fingers away, eyes glued to Miyata’s cock as Miyata rolls a condom on and strokes lube over his length.

“Are you comfortable like that?” Miyata pauses to ask, despite his own obvious desire to get on with it. “The angle’s okay?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Tamamori insists, reaching back to jam the pillow under his neck a little more firmly, but that’s all he has the patience for before he’s grabbing for Miyata. He can’t stop another low groan as Miyata pushes inside, Miyata echoing him more quietly. The angle is all different, Tamamori panting a string of breathless oh’s as Miyata works his way deeper.

When he can’t get any deeper, Miyata pauses for a second, both of them taking quick, short breaths as their eyes meet and hold. He can grab Miyata like this, Tamamori realizes, and before he knows it he’s got arms wrapped tight around Miyata’s neck, dragging him down for a long, deep kiss.

“Tama,” Miyata moans into it. Tamamori is clinging tightly enough that he can’t move properly, but the tiny twitches of Miyata’s hips make Tamamori shiver and sigh against Miyata’s mouth. Miyata drags his lips down over Tamamori’s jaw and down his neck; Tamamori tilts his head back to bare his throat, and Miyata slides in just a tiny bit deeper. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“So fuck me already.” Tamamori lets his arms slide off of Miyata’s shoulders and flop to the bed, giving Miyata his range of motion back. He watches openly as Miyata pushes himself up onto his hands and tests his angle, humming breathily at Miyata’s first real thrust. There’s actually nothing else besides Miyata that Tamamori can look at from this angle, no way he can miss Miyata’s intense expression or the depth of Miyata’s feelings as they flit across his face. It makes his nerves crackle, makes every touch feel like more when Miyata looks down at him like that.

He can read every emotion as it crosses Miyata’s face, and Tamamori suddenly realizes exactly why Miyata always has him roll over the other way.

“Are you okay?” Miyata asks, apparently reading Tamamori’s face just as easily. He slows his thrusts, although he doesn’t seem quite able to stop them completely. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Miyata drops to his elbows to kiss Tamamori again, fucking Tamamori at half-speed. The kiss is messy, both of them licking at each other’s lips while Miyata buries himself as deeply as he can inside Tamamori, the slow and deliberate thrusts making Tamamori’s body clench around Miyata to try and hold him right where he wants him. His skin feels like it’s on fire everywhere Miyata touches him, the slow burn spreading over the rest of his body until Tamamori is nearly insensible with it. Miyata usually doesn’t make him wait so long; in their usual position, Miyata can reach around and get Tamamori off with no problem.

“Please,” Tamamori begs, “please please please...”

“Can’t touch you and keep fucking you like this,” Miyata pants in explanation. “Can you touch yourself?”

Tamamori whines but tries to force one of his arms to what he says, eventually fumbling it between their stomachs and managing to wrap a hand around himself. The first stroke makes him tighten with the pleasure of it, and Miyata curses.

“Yeah, like that,” Miyata encourages, voice deeper than Tamamori’s ever heard it before. “Come for me, I want to feel you come.”

He would argue about being ordered around, but Tamamori’s too far gone to do anything but obey, mind going staticky with pleasure as he spills over his hand and stomach, no chance of stopping his moans any more than he can hold back his orgasm.

“Shit,” he groans when he has enough brain power back to realize, but then he peels his eyes open and sees the way Miyata is looking down at him.

“Wow,” Miyata says softly, totally distracted from the way he’s supposed to be finishing himself off. He’s flushed all the way down, sweat slicking his skin everywhere Tamamori touches, and Tamamori is tempted to echo the sentiment.

“Come already,” Tamamori tells him, wanting to see all the good stuff too. Miyata shifts his weight onto his knees and fucks Tamamori harder and deeper, making Tamamori gasp even though he’s just come a minute ago, before Miyata finally shudders himself out with a low groan he muffles by biting down hard on his lower lip.

He balances there, over Tamamori, chest heaving and eyes squeezed shut, until Tamamori reaches up and soothes Miyata’s lower lip away from his teeth with his thumb.

“You nearly broke the skin, idiot,” Tamamori scolds. Miyata opens his eyes, but just looks down at Tamamori kind of blankly, like he has no idea what to do now. Giving a soft “tcht,” Tamamori wraps arms around Miyata’s shoulders to pull him down, until he’s a boneless puddle sprawled over Tamamori’s chest, face tucked against Tamamori’s neck.

He’s still inside Tamamori, but Tamamori’s in no hurry to move despite how his legs are starting to protest a little. Tamamori’s skin is still tingling with aftershocks, and it feels amazing everywhere that Miyata and he are touching. Tamamori’s in no hurry to do anything other than lie right here for the foreseeable future. Letting his mind drift, he thinks about the way Miyata looked down at him during, and just after Tamamori had come, affectionate and full of wonder, like Tamamori was the best thing, the only thing.

He still hasn’t said the things he really needs to, but it’s easier somehow when they’re like this and Tamamori doesn’t have to look Miyata in the face.

“Don’t do that with anybody else,” Tamamori blurts.

Miyata stirs a little. “I haven’t done it with anybody else ever?”

“Good!” Tamamori says fiercely. “So don’t!” The next words try to stick in his throat, like before, but Tamamori forces them out. “I won’t either, then.”

Miyata’s breath catches and he freezes, like he needs a second for that to sink in, and then he’s squeezing Tamamori so tightly that Tamamori grunts. A moment later, Tamamori tightens his arms around Miyata’s shoulders too, silently apologizing for taking so long, for stringing Miyata along all this time.

“I’m really glad,” Miyata says, so softly that Tamamori can barely hear him, and his voice sounds thick. Not that he could tell with all the sweat, but Tamamori hopes that Miyata is not about to cry all over him, that’s another reason he’s sick of the girls.

“Just kiss me, stupid,” Tamamori orders, and Miyata pushes himself up and bangs their noses together in his hurry to obey. He slips out of Tamamori in the process and both of them hiss, but Tamamori clings too tightly for Miyata to break the kiss and start fretting about whatever. The kiss is sweet and warm, like when they used to practice for drama filming; Tamamori feels cherished, taken care of, by the time it breaks. He hopes Miyata feels that way too, finally.

Miyata brushes Tamamori’s bangs out of the way to press their foreheads together, eyes still closed and breathing quickly, like he can’t catch his breath the whole way. “I guess I can’t ask you not to do that with anybody else, huh.”

“Can’t have everything,” Tamamori says carelessly, his own eyes starting to get heavy. “Hurry up and get a drama offer too, so we can practice twice as much.”

Miyata laughs so hard he has to muffle it against Tamamori’s shoulder, and Tamamori holds him as tightly as he can and vows that if any silly drama girl dares to put so much as a finger on his Miyacchi, he’ll get her Friday’d on a date with all of A.B.C-Z.

“Why is your smile all scary like that?” Miyata wants to know, and Tamamori shuts him up with another kiss before he can ask any more dumb questions.

It is kind a letdown though when Tamamori’s mother walks in on them in the morning, and her only comment about their naked tangle is that now Fujigaya-san owes her five thousand yen.